Outlander
by ti11ie
Summary: Sara is a member of the most powerful family on the planet, but when Gil Grissom comes from the Outlands on the far reaches of the galaxy to negotiate peace with her uncle, suspicions grow and plots are created that will entwine their fates.
1. Chapter 1

Outlander

Chapter One.

The large bath was full almost to the brim with luxuriously hot water scented with oils and rose petals. The woman closed her eyes as she floated in it, allowing the warmth to saturate her body, relaxing her muscles and removing some of the tension of the last few weeks. Today was all that mattered now. She allowed herself a few minutes of perfect meditation in the fragrant water, letting all thoughts trickle slowly away, but roused herself before her skin began to wrinkle and got out of the large round bathtub. She dried herself thoroughly with soft towels and lavender powder and then rubbed the ointments and creams she had been given into her skin until it gleamed. If only it were not so pale, she thought to herself. Next she put on her sheer gown and began to work on her face, staring down the big-eyed brunette reflected in the mirror. It had taken her months to master this simple task of painting her face, not that she thought it made her look much different, but she had been drilled about its importance; it was all part of the ritual. Her make up, like her bath, was an integral element to the sacred rite that she was entering into. She must be absolutely perfect, nothing could be overlooked in her physical or mental preparation.

Finally Sara took a deep breath and inspected her work in the mirror. The powders and ointments she had applied with a practised hand accentuated her eyes and lips, and made her skin shimmer appealingly. The long hours of preparation had somehow culminated in this trembling work of art reflected back to her in the glass. Yet the nervous worm that had writhed in her belly awoke once more, without distraction now that the temporary distraction of her beautification ritual was finished. Tonight was the night. Finally Sara had finished the years of waiting and training and she would at last become what every woman dreamed of; one of the _haianhara_ , the blessed women, the sacred partners.

Sara scrutinised herself more closely in the mirror. It would not do for the smallest detail to be missed, tonight of all nights. She still looked a little pale, not that she could help that with her colouring and the restless night she had had, wondering what her _sirahan_ would be like. She allowed her thoughts to wander as she touched up the bronze on her skin one last time. Perhaps he would be tall, or maybe broad, she hoped he would be fairly young, but he may be very old. It was not certain that she would know him from among her uncle, the High Controller's Council men, but it was highly probable that it was one of those wheezing, leering old men. Still, Sara daydreamed of a foreign captain who would take her breath away. She knew that some partners were harsh, pushing their _haianha_ to her very limits, but Sara longed for a kind man who would see her value as a true partner in mind and body. Only the highest of officials from the City and abroad were invited to share in the blessed union. More than just marriage, sacred partnership was the pairing of perfectly trained, high class women with the most powerful, successful men of the realm, thus ensuring the continued success of their endeavours as well as their blood line. Sara fervently hoped that her union would embody the very essence of sacred partnership.

With a final glance at her reflection, Sara entered the living area. She nervously smoothed her ceremonial shift that was sheer enough to be virtually transparent and then sat down to wait. The quarters that they had been given were large, which meant her _sirahan_ was highly respected, probably one of the High Controller's inner circle. The immense population of the City meant that living space was strictly regulated, with the size of a man's quarters directly corresponding to his wealth and power. Whoever he was, Sara was sure that her _sirahan_ must be very important to her uncle.

Gil Grissom followed the servant to what would be his quarters for the next six major moon cycles. He tried not to let his irritation rise again; he had only just managed to hold his peace when King Telson started lecturing him about his good fortune to be granted his favour. _King_ Telson indeed. Gil doubted the man even knew what the archaic term meant, High Controller or no. He could not help but be irked by this forced voyage away from his homelands to present himself to a balding man with nothing more than a written mandate from the Overseer commanding that he be granted food and lodging befitting an Official. The possibility that Gil was not an Official per se had evidently not crossed the High Controller's mind. The man had spoken to him like most people from the City did, as if he was slow, savage and untrustworthy. He supposed it was to be expected; he was an outlander after all. Gil normally would not have cared two cents what a man like Telson thought of him, but being sent to the Controller cap in hand to negotiate an alliance made him feel his position keenly. Telson was not a man to understand humility and dignity, and Gil was decidedly not looking forward to ingratiating himself to him.

Gil followed as the servant rounded yet another corner. He ruefully thought that he would never get used to an entire city being indoors. It just felt wrong. How long had it been since he had been home, on the long plains of his birth planet? He shook his head lightly. There was no point thinking of such things. Gil made a deliberate effort to concentrate his thoughts. His mind ran through his mission once more. He was to gain the High Controller's trust at all costs, offering an exclusive alliance with the Outlands unlike anything previously recorded. In order to do this he was to enter into some kind of secret society that they had here; the sacred union or some such nonsense, and find out anything that might be used to shift the City's power from within. After this mission, he would have to have some harsh words with Brass about the sparsity of the background information he had given him. Thus far it had been more of a hindrance than a help. He was too old to be sent half way around the galaxy on a moment's notice. Why did people always assume that he was flexible because he had no family? Of course the Overseer had claimed that there was no one of his calibre to take on this vital mission. Gil would have infinitely preferred to have been left to his own devices in his lab, but his career had trumped his passion for science. Besides, he had the Overseer's word that this was the last time. After this was over, Gil would be allowed to retire from service as a real Official and spend all the time he liked in his lab. Then again, he had heard that before.

The servant stopped suddenly at a door that seemed identical to the hundreds they had passed. There was no number or distinguishing feature at all and Gil wondered how he would ever remember how to get back there on his own. The servant gestured to the band around Gil's wrist and then to a tiny black rectangle on the door. Evidently this servant had not been programmed to speak. Gil thanked the man anyway out of habit and used the band around his wrist to open the door to his new home, glad at least to be able to rest his weary body in a real bed after weeks of stellar travel. The door opened silently and he walked inside.

Telson reclined on his front, enjoying a full body massage from a suitably programmed servant after a tough day, and feeling extremely proud of himself all in all. He did not yet know this outlander's mission among them, but Telson's gut told him that he was not to be trusted. Years of fighting his way to the top had taught him to trust his instincts, and this proposed alliance was no different. Telson revelled in his own ingenuity. The sacred union that he had arranged would put a member of his own kin in the outlander's bed, where all secrets are spilt, and in his head, giving him Telson's own counsel through full red lips. No man could resist that. So much the better that it was Sara, his troublesome niece. This outlander, practically a savage, would break her in nicely and get rid of the lingering look of rebellion in those brown eyes. Sara would soon learn to respect her uncle after sharing her bed with an uncultured brute of a foreigner. If he had not been her relation, Telson would have liked to have done the breaking in himself. There was nothing quite so satisfying as dominating a woman full of spirit like Sara, breaking her will and showing her who was in charge. Yes, he would have loved to slap that smirk right off her face, to have felt her struggle against him as he took what could not be returned. Such a shame she was so valuable to him intact. This solution, however, was the next best thing. He had heard that outland men were ruthless with their needs. Telson chuckled to himself. It was not for nothing that he was High Controller. Long ago he had learnt to weave a tangled web with friend and foe alike until nobody was entirely sure who's side they were on, and usually they were on both. This ensured that the right kind of information inevitably found its way to his ears. He would use these same skills to negotiate this new alliance with the Outlands.

The servant was programmed to perfection, and Telson moaned in pleasure as the final kinks in his lower back were worked out. He started to become aroused, and his thoughts turned to his night's entertainment. He would never dream of lowering himself to using a servant to feed his carnal appetites, although he had heard they could be programmed to do some unspeakable things. For Telson, it had to be one hundred per cent human, only the best would do. He liked to see the fear, the humiliation and the submission on their face as he dominated them. Reaching for the nearest pad, Telson ran a quick search to choose some girls. His _haianha_ was well into her middle years now, a fact that numerous surgeries could no longer hide. True, she was his work of art when it came to submission, but what had been appealing about her had been the long years it had taken to break her. Now she was nothing to him. Typing in an age limit half of his own, he ran his finger slowly down the screen. The servant continued to rub his back as Telson scrolled idly through the options, a man at the zenith of his illustrious career.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two.

The door slid back silently to reveal a modestly sized room with two other doors leading off from it. Gil doubted he would ever get used to the cramped accommodation of the City. Still, the décor had an elegant simplicity about it and Gil could not help but be seduced by the technological luxuries that a stay in the City offered. The sharp lines of the furniture and the deep rich colours were a far cry from his humble farmhouse; no wonder they all thought him backwards. The wonder of going to a closet and finding clothes laid out for him in his size, voice-operated showers, and wrist tags were all so alien to him. Yet it was the culture of the City to which he was struggling hardest to adjust. Gil was distracted from his musings by the sound of somebody moving in an adjoining room.

"Welcome." A slender girl in a transparent shift walked into the living area from one of the other rooms. "You do me great honour." She bowed slightly. Gil tensed immediately. It was not the first time that he had been given access to a woman as part of some barbaric notion of hospitality, but it filled him with rage to think that such a beautiful young creature could be treated as disposable in this way.

"I have no need of you. You may go." He told her gently, sure she would be relieved not to be forced upon by a man of his age.

"I do not understand." She returned his gaze with big, uncertain eyes, clearly nervous. Heavens above, she was beautiful. Gil attempted to make himself clear.

"I do not need your services tonight, you are free to go." Rather than looking relieved, the girl looked as if he had slapped her across the face.

"You think I'm a prostitute?" The look on the girl's face was enough to stay all of the possible answers that presented themselves to Gil in that split-second. At that moment the girl became obviously self-conscious about her attire, folding her arms across her chest in a gesture of modesty that would have been laughable if she hadn't looked to be a heartbeat away from bursting into tears. Gil raked an uneasy hand through his hair. He was not a man gifted with social ease, in fact he preferred to avoid those situations where politics and duplicity were necessary tools to advancement. Now though, he dearly wished he had an ounce of inter-personal skill to fix the unhappy mess he had somehow found himself in.

"What is your name?" He asked gently as led her to the lounge chairs and they sat.

"My name is Sara, and I have never been touched by a man." The girl perched delicately on the edge of the seat, looking strangely defiant despite the rosy stain of mortification on her cheeks.

"I am Gil and I think you should explain to me exactly who you are and what you are doing in my quarters." As weary as he was, Gil realised that a cultural blunder could have unforeseen repercussions, and he felt decidedly ill-equipped to handle the etiquette of releasing this woman from her duty with no lingering animosity.

"I am your _haianha_, I have been given to you as my _sirahan_. I can't leave. Neither of us can. At least not for a major moon week."

"Woah slow down. I don't understand what you're saying. What do you mean we can't leave?" Gil's brow wrinkled in confusion. He didn't understand half of these City colloquialisms.

"Well tonight we have the Union of Bodies, and then at the end of one month is the Blessing of the Sacred Union." The more Sara said, the more confused he became. Nothing she said seemed to make any sense. Suddenly one turn of phrase tugged at his memory.

"Wait, the Sacred Union... I've heard of that... That's a Council thing, right?"

"Yes only Council members and high-ranking outlanders may participate in the Sacred Union." Sara confirmed, seeming excited that she seemed to be getting through to him.

"And I will be participating next month? Telson neglected to mention that." Brass was going to have hell to pay for this information chasm that had gaped open right where he didn't need it.

"The Union begins officially next month." Gil saw his opportunity to find out more information and seized it. The more he could find out from this woman before he let her go, the better. He hated surprises, especially on missions.

"So what will happen at the ceremony, this Blessing?"

"You and I will be united as a sacred partnership for the remainder of our mortal lives."

"You mean we're getting married?" He asked, jaw dropping in incredulity.

"Marriage is for the lower-people, but yes, I suppose there are certain similarities."

"I can't marry you, I don't even know you!" Inspite of himself, Gil started to panic. The pained look returned to Sara's big brown eyes, but he couldn't bring himself to stop. This was beyond insanity.

"I have been hand-picked as the most compatible _haianha_ for you." She tried to interject.

"Damn it, woman, this is absurd!" He roared at her. Tears spilled down Sara's cheeks, reining in the worst of his ire. Common sense told him that she had had as little choice in this as him. "I'm sorry." He whispered with the small amount of sincerity he was able to muster.

"I have never known a man be tricked into the Union before. In the City it is one of the highest honours that can be bestowed upon an Official." The defiant look in Sara's eye had returned and Gil would have suspected a healthy dose of sarcasm in her words if he hadn't known better. A woman could be publicly disciplined for talking back to a man here in the City.

"Right then, I just need to explain to Telson that there has been a huge mistake, and then he can put an end to this insanity."

"My uncle is the one who chose me for you, so it is unlikely he will recant. Besides, he is not a man to be informed of his own mistakes, no matter how grave they may be." The defiance had disappeared from Sara's countenance, replaced with a gentle concern that unnerved Gil even more.

"Telson is your uncle?" He asked, his mind making several connections at once as Sara nodded her confirmation. This was a woman of incredibly high standing, and one who had the High Controller's ear at that. She was right about his temperament too. The more he thought about it, the less chance he realised he had of getting Telson to undo what he himself had created. "I need to talk to Brass."

"We're not supposed to leave until the week is out."

"But by then it will be too late."

"You mean to end our union?" She asked fearfully.

"Trust me when I say that a beautiful young woman like you does not want to be stuck with an old man like me, and an outlander at that." Gil tried to sound as reassuring as possible. "Somehow I will put an end to this madness, and then you will be free."

"Women in the City are never free, and their value comes entirely from their Union. If you leave then I will be looked upon as little more than what you first presumed me to be." This stopped him in his tracks.

"But I haven't touched you!" Frustration filled every word. How had his life been turned upside down in the last fifteen minutes with no warning whatsoever?

"No, but I have been given to you and you dishonour me by your rejection." Again Sara's tone was carefully measured, not giving too much weight or feeling to the words lest they taken for impertinent. Gil could sense that she was not trying to be melodramatic; she was merely stating the truth. He cleared his throat, hating to be the cause of pain to such a beautiful woman.

"I'm sorry, the last thing I wish is to bring you dishonour, but if there is a way out of this then I must take it." She only nodded sadly in response.

"The pads still work. You can contact your friend that way." Sara picked one up from the lounge table and extended it to him. Gil took the proffered piece and stalked into what appeared to be the bedroom, closing the door behind him. He sat on the bed and quickly ran his finger across the screen, stabbing at the appropriate information until a connection was made and then he transferred the image to the larger screen on the wall.

"Gil, it's about time you checked in. Telson give you a grilling, did he?" Brass sounded distant and his image kept pixelating and then returning to normal.

"This isn't about Telson."

"What's wrong, Gil? You've got that look in your eye.; the one that makes three galaxies between us seem too close."

"They've arranged a marriage for me."

"Haha, you old dog, it's about time you settled down." Brass was mollified a little by Gil's face. "What, is she not a looker?"

"She's..." Beautiful, sensitive, wise. Words escaped him. He had known from first glance that she was too good for him, even when he had thought she was a prostitute. "...young."

"How young?" Brass's jaw clenched in sudden anger. Gil knew he had seen things that would give the average enforcer nightmares. There was a reason Brass had such a fierce reputation amongst criminals.

"Not like that. She must be legal, but only by a couple of years." Gil was quick to put his friend's mind at rest. On screen the man's face relaxed into a grin.

"Well then, enjoy it. Live a little." The grin had turned into an irritating smirk and Gil started to despair of any sort of aid.

"I'm not about to force myself upon an unwilling woman, Jim."

"One look into those baby blues and I'm sure there'll be no forcing at all." Gil, could feel Brass warming to the subject and desperately tried to change tack.

"She's Telson's niece." This new information had the desired effect. The mirth vanished from Brass's face instantly.

"You need to be careful, Gil. Don't tell her anything. Don't trust her. She'll be Telson's girl through and through. We can't afford to have her spill our secrets."

"I don't intend to tell her anything, but how long until you can get me out of this mess?"

"Get you out? Gil, fate has done what our plans could not. We can use this girl to get information on Telson. You're weeks ahead of schedule."

"So you suggest I marry the girl for the sake of my planet?"

"If you can't or won't, then you'd better think of a good reason for stalling the wedding until we can get the information that we need. I need to go now, Gil, update me when you can." The screen winked out and Gil let out a tremulous sigh as he faced the blackness.

Enforcer Nato had one eye on the time as he made his final rounds, hoping he would be able to finish early. He wasn't normally one to bother with the comings and goings of the upper echelons of society, but no sane man would refuse a week of merry-making and celebration laid on at their expense. Nato glowered at an unlucky junior coming the other way, hoping to avoid being delayed. The tactic seemed to work and the boy shied away; Nato's robust form reinforcing the grimace. Ignoring the groans and wails of the Rehabs, Nato checked them off one by one on his pad. Two had been shipped off during the day, no longer subject to the abject misery of the holding cells, no longer subject to any emotion to be precise, but perhaps it was better that way. From the daily reports, he estimated that five more would be gone by the end of the holiday.

Suddenly a commotion from the other end of the corridor caught Nato's attention. He nearly growled in annoyance at the familiar sounds of a newly admitted Rehab that called him back to his station. So much for getting away early. Junior Anders had received the newly sentenced prisoner and stood waiting for orders.

"Name?" Nato stared in disgust at the woman in front of him, if indeed she could be called that. He assumed that she was around fifty, although she was in such a state it was hard to tell. Her bones protruded sharply wherever they stuck out from the rags she wore, her brown hair was matted and wild, and she stank to high heaven. Her large brown eyes seemed almost vacant as they stared past him. Maybe there would be six to move on this week.

"She doesn't speak." Anders was struggling not to gag at the stench coming from the Rehab. Nato took pity on him, and quickly filled out the cursory details onto his pad. Neither of them had any desire to drag this admittance out.

"Take her to Cell 5453." He programmed Anders' wrist tag and watched as he tried to herd her away without breathing in through his nose. Chuckling to himself, Nato logged his final figures for the day, grateful to be out of the graveyard of humanity that was Rehabilitation Holding C-184 for a few precious days.

The woman blinked at the sudden harsh artificial lighting of Cell 5453 and felt her exhausted body slump down the wall. Convulsions shook her body, and she pulled her bony knees towards her. A movement next to her drew her attention, and she tried to force her eyes to focus. A grubby, hairy man, who had little more meat on him than she did, gave a loud hawking cough into his filthy sleeve, as he slid to the floor next to her. The woman recoiled from him, but when he offered her a packet of dry supplement her ravenous hunger got the better of her.

"I'm Sarin." The man supplied. The woman supposed she should return his offer of friendship. He had given her food after all. Besides, she figured she could do with someone with inside knowledge of this new Holding.

"I'm Laura." Her smile looked more like a wince of pain.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

The screen on the wall flashed blue to indicate an incoming transmission. Sara froze as she registered it, unsure whether to disturb Gil from his shower. He seemed like such a private man. Perhaps he would be angry if she interrupted him. She didn't want him to miss the transmission if it was important though. That might irk him even further. Besides she was his _haianha_, his worthy equal. It would not do to have him think her incapable of taking a message for him. Even the lowest programmed servant could do that. Ignoring the icy gnaw of trespasser guilt, Sara tapped the screen. It was immediately filled with the smiling face of a man about Gil's age, though with significantly less hair.

"You must be Sara." He greeted her. She nodded shyly in response. "I'm Jim. I'm one of Gil's oldest friends."

"Then I am glad to have met you, Jim." She smiled at him. His face seemed to instill a sense of trust and calm in her that Sara could not fathom.

"Is Gil there?" He asked warmly, smiling as if he had known Sara her whole life.

"He's not available at the moment. Can I give him a message?"

"No, no, don't you worry. It can wait." The smile got bigger.

"Oh. Ok." Sara felt extremely awkward. Despite her best intentions, it seemed that even Gil's friend would not trust her to relay a simple message. Surprisingly though, Jim did not seem in a hurry to end their conversation. The silence seemed to stretch out between them, Sara being unsure how to end the transmission without appearing rude.

"Congratulations on your nuptials." Jim continued at last.

"Thank you." Sara replied politely, unable to muster any further conversation.

"Gil tells me you are King Telson's niece."

"That is my great honour, yes." Sara had over two decades of practice at hiding the revulsion she felt for her uncle. It had been essential to her survival.

"I never thought I would see the day that Gil settled down with a wife." She was expecting further questions about her uncle, but Jim had surprised her with musings on an entirely different tangent. Now Sara's interest was piqued.

"Why not?"

"He just never seemed the type." Sara thought on this for a moment, slotting it into the narrow volume of information she had thus far compiled regarding her _sirahan_. There was so much she did not know about him, so much that he kept effortlessly concealed, and here was an irresistible opportunity to glean some precious insight. She had to take it.

"May I ask you a question?"

"Fire away, kiddo."

"What duties do Outland wives perform for their husbands?"

"Duties, what do you mean?" Jim furrowed his brow.

"Do they cook and clean? What foods do they prepare? Do they organise the household? Do they keep their husband's business in order?" Questions spilled forth and Sara had to make a significant effort to staunch the flow.

"Marriage is very different in the Outlands." Jim's face took on a sad sort of look that Sara did not understand.

"I know. I need to learn your ways if I am to please Gil as his _haianha_." She pushed on earnestly.

Jim seemed to be contemplating an answer when the door to the bathroom slid suddenly open as Gil walked into the bedroom wearing only a towel around his waist and using a smaller towel to dry his hair. He stopped in shock as he registered his dual audience. Heat rose to Sara's cheeks as she found her eyes refusing to be moved from Gil's naked torso.

"What's going on here?" Gil demanded.

"Sara and I were just getting acquainted." Brass replied with a chuckle.

"I will leave you to talk to your friend." Sara practically ran from the room, cheeks still rose red.

"Do you normally have that effect on women when you're in the buff?" Brass quipped, but Gil was in no mood to be trifled with.

"What were you talking to Sara about?" He demanded, only just holding his temper.

"I wanted to see if we could get her to give us any information on Telson, or the treaty."

"So you gave her our entire mission in five minutes? What happened to her being Telson's girl through and through?" Gil had lowered his voice, but anger was evident in his every syllable.

"Gil, relax. I didn't tell her anything, and... I don't know, there's something odd about her."

"What do you mean?"

"Well I figured she had been given to you to get as much information as she could out of you."

"What's your point?"

"Any spy worth his -or her- salt would have gone through your belongings by now, dropped a few guarded questions, would have jumped on the opportunity to interrogate your colleague."

"You don't think she's a spy." Gil concluded.

"What is the evidence telling you?"

"I don't know, Jim. Maybe she's biding her time." Silence extended between the two friends, neither of them had a ready answer, at least not one they were prepared to gamble on. "There's some kind of ceremony at the end of the week." Gil said eventually. "It's being held in Telson's private quarters. It's our best chance to get to his hard drive and find out what information he's hiding about the treaty."

"It's a big risk, Gil. One wrong step and you completely blow your cover."

"I know, but so far I haven't even been able to leave these quarters. It might be the only opportunity I have to get that close to him for weeks. Besides, if anything does go wrong I might be able to claim ignorance being the savage Outlander that I am." Gil's lips gave an ironic quirk that matched his friend's.

"You'll have to keep the little woman sweet for a bit longer." Brass couldn't suppress a chuckle at the long-suffering sigh that Gil issued forth. "If I didn't know you better, I'd think you were enjoying this."

"Jim." Gil warned with narrowed eyes.

"Talk to you soon, buddy." Brass ended the transmission with a wink, and the screen flicked back to black, reflecting Gil's seated form back to him.

As he finished drying himself off and dressing himself, Gil allowed his mind to muse over the last few days since his arrival in the City. Although he had somewhat reluctantly agreed to remain in this spectacle of a marriage, or union, or whatever is was called here, there was not a day so far when he had not at least partially regretted his decision. The time he had spent with Sara had confirmed his early appraisal of her; she was a beautiful girl, full of life and extremely intelligent. She did not deserve to live this lie with him with absolutely no material gain to her. It pained him to see Sara resign herself to the sham for as long as it lasted, always hoping for just one more day together. He vowed to himself that however this mission ended, and their bogus marriage resolved, it would not be at the expense of this poor girl's honour.

For all that, Gil had found himself relaxing into the long days spent in Sara's company, surprised with how much he enjoyed it. In fact the days had started to become almost pleasant in their simplicity. Early on Sara has expressed an interest in learning more about his culture and, ever the teacher, Gil had complied. Sara's thirst for knowledge was insatiable, and Gil found himself thoroughly enjoying the hours together expanding upon her rudimentary female education. They shared the household chores together, despite initial reservations from Sara about what was appropriate for a man to do. Gil had enjoyed baffling her still further with his skills in the kitchen.

The only ripple upon the calm pool of contentment was the moment each night when Gil retired to the couch, watching the virgin's anticipation fade to disappointment in Sara's big brown eyes. It was so tempting to slip between those silk sheets and soft thighs, but Gil could not bring himself to use her in such a way while planning his exit all the while. If it dishonoured him, it down right degraded her and he would not entertain the thought. That did not stop the delicious images of her coming to him at night completely unbidden to taunt him with what might be.

Laura woke to the wail of a siren that echoed off all the walls in the Holding, multiplying itself exponentially. She held the thin blanket over herself for a few moments longer, relishing its resistance, albeit feeble, to the harsh artificial lights that glared day and night. Being the new arrival meant that by rights she shouldn't even have a bed, even one as ill situated as this top bed of a five tier bunk. Sarin had somehow managed to get the bed for her, with a thin, filthy mattress, so that Laura might rest and regain some strength. He had also provided some dry supplement for her, that he had gently fed her when she had proven too weak to feed herself, so that even if she had had the will to decline it, she had not the strength. She tried not to dwell on the form in which he might expect his repayment. Sarin seemed like a good person, but Laura had learnt long ago that that stood for little in a Holding.

"Laura, you're awake." Sarin's messy mop of grey hair appeared at the end of the bed.

"Good morning, Sarin." Laura said out of habit, even though the perpetual glare of the Holding's light meant that it was impossible for any of them to tell with any certainty what time or even day it was.

"You're looking much better today."

"I really can't thank you enough for everything you've done for me..." Laura began, wondering where the negotiation would lead.

"Think nothing of it. Do you feel up to meeting some of the other residents?" Sarin's eyes wrinkled slightly as he smiled, and Laura felt herself inclined to trust him. If only she could find a way to repay him then she wouldn't need to worry about any nasty surprises later on.

"Sure." Sarin's head disappeared to allow Laura to gingerly make her way down the five tiers of beds, all the way fearing a slip until her foot finally touched the floor.

At first glance, all Rehabs looked the same, even Laura. They were all half-starved creatures made up of skin, bone, a few rags and little else besides. It wasn't unless you were unfortunate enough to spend any length of time with one that you would be able to determine physical features, or even gender. There were over a hundred Rehabs in this overcrowded Cell designed for twenty. Laura was insightful enough to realise that Sarin had at least some level of authority in this Holding, so she made an effort to retain the names and distinguishing features of those he introduced. There was Warrick, who was black with green eyes, Greg who had the weight and stature of one of higher birth and hair that stuck up on end endearingly. Scratches, also black, took his name from the long scars down his face that had claimed one eye, Eighteen was a severe looking man, older than all the others except Sarin, who shaved his head, and Helena was a twelve year old stick of a girl the group had adopted as a daughter.

Laura smiled and answered their few questions on her previous Holdings, as they tallied up mutual acquaintances, but soon felt her strength start to abandon her. Sarin ushered her to sit on his lowest-level bunk and the rest of the group returned to their card games and other amusements. Helena remained and showed Laura a small screened off area where she might wash herself. Before she left, Laura questioned Helena about the rest of the group in quiet whispers. The girl confirmed Laura's intuition that Sarin held a level of authority, and talked about the others as favourite older brothers.

"Why do they call him Eighteen?" Laura asked, curious about the grave man.

"They say he was one of the first ever Rehabs here. Number Eighteen."

"That's impossible." Laura scoffed. "All the Holdings are over a hundred years old."

"Nuh-huh, not this one. They built this one special, a few years back, you know, when they purged the City. Didn't have enough room so they built this Holding right underneath the City. I bet it would give them up there a real fright if they realised they were walking on our heads. " Helena giggled and then smirked a little as she handed Laura a small amount of soap before she left. Laura hardly noticed though. She felt tears well up even as she began to laugh to herself. Finally, after all these years they had made a mistake, just as she had been hoping for. A lifetime of illness and misery had delivered its fruit. The authorities had forgotten about her, Laura Sidle no longer existed. She was a Rehab, practically a ghost. She was so transparent that she was now unseen. In their folly they had forgotten her, and now here she was, back in the City for the first time in twenty years, ready to wreak her revenge.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

Sara seemed to float into the room wearing one of the virtually transparent dresses that made up her entire wardrobe. After their initial meeting, Gil had managed to persuade her to wear his shirts and other items of his clothing in an attempt to keep temptation at bay as far as possible. At the time, Sara had not seemed to understand, but had complied without any resistance until now.

"What are you wearing that for?" Sara checked herself, clearly startled at his tone.

"For the gathering. All the women will be dressed like this."

"Can't you wear one of my shirts? Cover yourself up a bit?" He knew it sounded dumb as soon as the words left his mouth. Sara looked mortified, her cheeks flushing red.

"It would look strange."

"We could say it is an Outland tradition. Nobody would know any different." He knew he sounded foolish, but Gil could not bring himself to take her out dressed in a transparent shift.

"All of the other women will be dressed like this, so that their sirahani can display their gain to all who are there." It was the first time that Sara had ever been anything other than completely compliant to his wishes.

"Well, you are my woman and I do not wish for other sirahani to look at you like that." Gil did not at first realise what he had said until Sara's face broke into a shy smile. As he mentally played back his words, he realized his mistake. He had claimed her as his.

"Wear what you like." He spat out, angry with himself, but Sara merely bobbed her head and walked out of the room. He had no doubt that when she returned she would be covered discreetly in some item appropriated from his wardrobe, only adding a visual confirmation to what he had already professed. She was his woman.

Turning to a mirror, Gil fussed over his collar in a rare display of nerves. He could not afford to let these domestic complications distract him from his true task tonight. This would be the first time since his arrival that he had been allowed out of his quarters, and he would be in the presence of the powers that be in the City.

From what he understood, he and Sara were to be presented as a couple to the City's high society in some sort of informal gathering to be held tonight in the High Controller's personal chambers. Beyond that he had been fruitless in all his attempts to garner further information. It seemed to be a subject of complete ignorance on Sara's part. Since she had never before been partnered, she told him reasonably, she could not be expected to know what would take place.

Essentially that meant that Gil was going into the situation blind. Sure he had grilled Sara on her uncle, and his quarters, under the pretence of being an over-awed Outland fool. It meant, though, that he had no fixed plan, no idea of friend or foe, and no idea what opportunities the night would afford him. The only small comfort was that the gathering was classed as informal, so he was unlikely to be called upon to do more than mingle.

As he took final stock of his reflection in the mirror, Gil saw Sara enter the room behind him. She wore one of his shirts as a dress, secured at the waist with a belt, and looked suddenly insecure. He almost relented and told her to change, until he remembered that she owned nothing that was not transparent or seedy.

"You look beautiful." He told her as he turned to face her, and was rewarded with a small smile.

"We should go." Gil nodded and headed towards the door. He started when Sara slipped her hand into his. "We will need to act like partners if you wish people to believe it to be so." Gil nodded again, slowly. He should have thought of this sooner. He would have Sara on his arm all night, he would have to pretend to be her husband, and somehow still slip away to find out what information he could. That was if Sara did not complain to her uncle first. One way or another, this was going to be a night to remember.

Gil and Sara followed the servant that had been sent to accompany them to the High Controller's quarters. It was an unnecessary extravagance since Sara knew the way, but then Gil expected that this would be merely the first example of Telson's exuberant hospitality that evening. As they approached the doors, tall, wide, and gilded in gold, making a marked difference after the endless rows of grey doors they had passed on their way, Sara's grip suddenly tightened in Gil's hand. Reflexively he stroked the back of her hand with his thumb, and they both took a deep breath as the doors parted to admit them to the gathering.

The room they entered was significantly larger than their own living quarters. Gil wondered briefly how Telson justified it to the Land and Property Council. No doubt they were all in Telson's pocket. Looking around, Gil could see several large indoor tents made from silk dotted around the room. They were large enough for a small group of people to stand in, but each seemed to have cushions and recliners within. Strains of music floated towards them, suggesting musicians, although Gil could not see them through the crowd. Abruptly a servant appeared in front of them with a tray of drinks. Gil took one, but Sara looked to him, unsure.

"You need my permission to drink?" He whispered, incredulous. Sara nodded her head once as if it were of little consequence. Gil took a second flute and handed it to her,

It was then, as they both turned once more to the gathering, that Gil began to realise that something was awry. Unsure, he began to scrutinise the tents more closely. Although the silk walls prevented him from seeing inside some of them, the music did little to conceal the urgent moans coming from within. As he looked from tent to tent, some of the curtains were still tethered open, giving him a rather different view of City high society. In one, an over-weight man in his middle years was forcing a young girl's head up and down in his lap, in another, two young girls were kissing and fondling each other while their sirahani watched and chatted. A third was closed over, but the two young girls outside stood stoically as very masculine groans came from within. Gil looked around the room in surprise; this was nothing but an upper class orgy. His gaze brought him back to Sara's face, which had drained of all colour. She looked as if she would faint at any moment. Thinking fast, Gil led her into one of the tents that were not in use, releasing the tether to give them some privacy.

"You really didn't know?" He asked her gently, as they sat down on one of the recliners. Sara shook her head mutely. "I thought this partnership thing was supposed to be about finding a man's equal?"

"So did I." Sara said quietly. "I've devoted my whole life to a farce." Gil did not know what to say. "I should have worn my own dress tonight. Evidently my only value is going to be attained through my body, and thus my only means of survival," She did not say 'when you are gone'. She did not need to. Gil resisted the strong urge to pull her into his arms. He did, however, stroke her cheek gently.

"Your value is far greater than you realise." He said softly. Suddenly Sara became very aware of where they were. Had he been thinking of more than her comfort when he brought her into the tent? Did he want her to perform for him as she had seen the other girls doing? Sara did not find the idea as repugnant as she should, lost in his blue-eyed gaze. Gil found himself looking at her lips, and the whole atmosphere seemed to change, suddenly charged with electricity. Looking back into her lovely eyes, Gil seemed to come to some sort of resolution, but as he leaned forward the curtain parted.

"Gil, it's been a long time." The newcomer said loudly, as if she had intended to halt whatever proceedings she happened upon. Gil practically jumped away from Sara as if caught stealing sweet-doughs.

"Heather." He greeted her cautiously. Heather was a petite yet striking woman. She was older than Sara, but exuded a confidence that created an aura of beauty around her. She had flawless ivory skin, and well defined features. Surely she must be a haianha of some importance, but Sara had never laid eyes on her before.

"Go and wait outside, child." Heather instructed Sara coldly. Sara stood up, refusing to be cowed by this woman. She looked at Gil for support, but his gaze was firmly fixed on Heather.

"Just give us a minute." He dismissed her with a mutter and not so much as a glance. Sara felt like running out in tears, but she mustered what pride she still retained and walked calmly out.

Sara knew she should wait outside, mute and stoic as the other forgotten haianhara, but she could not bring herself to do so. Besides, it had been that woman's command, not Gil's. Instead Sara decided to find the restroom.

She rushed inside to find that it was full. There was a queue to use the cubicles and an impossible number of women fought to adjust makeup and clothing in the three large mirrors. Resigning herself to the impossibility of even a couple of minutes solace in a private toilet, Sara backed up against the wall. Next to her a pretty young blonde girl, who looked barely sixteen, was crying inconsolably. Her comforter looked older, approaching her middle years. The small wrinkles on her face would surely not be left unattended for much longer before her sirahan paid for surgery.

"It will be ok." The older woman was saying, in the small clucking voice people use for small children. "It gets easier the more you do it."

"The more it hurts, the more I cry, the more he seems to like it." The girl stuttered out.

"He hurts you?" Sara interrupted despite herself. The two women looked up at her.

"Your sirahan does not?" The girl asked, confused. The woman's expression darkened and Sara felt embarrassed. Her sirahan found her so repulsive he refused to touch her. She had assumed there to be no worse humiliation. Only now did she realise her own arrogance.

"Now Lindsay, clearly this woman's sirahan does not care for her company." The woman interrupted, gesturing towards Sara's borrowed shirt.

"You're so lucky." Lindsay sniffled, belatedly realising that her makeup was ruined, and trying to fix it in the mirror.

"Actually it's an Outland tradition for a bride to wear an article of her sirahan's clothing." The woman's face softened a little at this, although it was clear that she did not believe Sara's ruse.

"That's so romantic." Lindsay had turned to face her. "I'm Lindsay and this is Catherine."

"I'm Sara. I think we were in training together."

"I thought I recognised you." Introductions over, Lindsay stared at Sara for a long moment. "All that training. Who would have thought it was all for this?" Sara wished she had an answer for her, some sort of consolation. "I had better go, Brunei will be upset if I am gone much longer." Lindsay and Catherine left Sara with her thoughts. Brunei was one of her uncle's closest friends. A large brutal man used to getting his own way in everything. Her uncle was the only one he ever bothered to moderate himself for.

Checking herself once in the mirror Sara left the restroom. She walked slowly back to the tent where she had left Gil. The tent was empty now, and she could not see him anywhere. Unsure what to do she began to walk around the room. Eventually she got to the back. She saw a servant wave its wrist at the receptor of a nearby door and on impulse she followed it through. She found herself in her uncle's inner chambers; his study, library and bedroom were all in this section. Sara had never been in her uncle's chambers alone. A sick thrill of fascination went through her. She walked into his private study and recklessly began to scroll through his pad. Sara frowned as she saw some messages referring to the Outlands. There was nothing out of the ordinary about them, but something made her swipe her chip over the pad to copy them anyway. No sooner had she done so, than the door opened behind her. Sara spun round to see her uncle enter the room, empty glass in hand.

"What do you want?" He growled suspiciously at her.

"I…I…was waiting for you." Sara stuttered lamely, expecting to feel the full force of her uncle's wrath. He surprised her with a chuckle.

"One week with a savage and you've come crawling back, have you?" He advanced on her, and Sara cringed back against the desk. "Broken you in good and proper, has he?" She tried to move away but Telson spun her round and pressed her against the desk. She could feel the ridge of his erection pressing into her even as he slid a hand down the shirt that was now gaping at the front. Sara suddenly realised the danger of the situation. If her uncle took her by force he would realise her virginity, thereby nullifying her partnership and making her unfit for any man. She did not know how to stop him.

"Uncle, please don't." She begged as Telson squeezed her breast and began to lean her forward over the desk. Just as she had given up all hope, Sara heard the door open again.

"What the hell is going on here?" Thank the stars; it was Gil. Telson released her and Sara turned round, shakily readjusting her clothes. She could see now why her uncle had let go of her so suddenly. Gil's cold hard fury was enough to check even the most powerful man in the galaxy. Quickly, though, Telson regained his composure and greeted Gil as his honoured guest, as if he were not at all surprised to have him wander through security into his private rooms as he accosted his niece. She, a woman, was automatically excluded.

"Grissom, my friend, you have found us at last!" He blustered, pouring two liberal glasses of brandy. "I was just instructing my niece on how she might endeavour to please such a man as yourself. It is most unfortunate that she has fallen out of your favour so soon." Gil took the proffered glass, and Sara worried that he would present her uncle with his complaints. If he dissolved their partnership then her uncle would have free rein to do with her as he wished. A shiver ran down her spine as she finally grasped what those wishes would entail.

"She is wearing my shirt because I do not like other men looking at her." Gil still sounded dangerous, and she could tell her uncle was ruffled by his ice-cold anger.

"Ah of course." Telson fortified himself with a hefty swig of his drink. "She is to your taste then?" He added, curious. Gil hesitated a moment too long. Sara knew her uncle had realised it. "We have many women here in the City. At gatherings such as these, you can be at your ease. If my niece is not to your liking, then there will surely be someone who is. Heather, perhaps." If Gil was surprised that Telson knew of their conversation, he did not show it. The mention of Heather seemed to intensify his anger rather than pacify it. When he spoke, though, Gil was calm and collected.

"Sara is more than adequate. You are a most generous host." Telson seemed surprised, but ushered them back to the main gathering, clearly relieved to have smoothed over the earlier embarrassment.

Gil did not say one word to Sara. He barely seemed to notice her as he strode back to their apartment with her hand in his vice-like grip. He did not seem to notice that he walked straight through to the bedroom. He released her hand and sat on the end of the bed, head in hands. Sara did not know what to say.

"I told you to wait outside." He said quietly. Sara thought he was angry until he looked up and she saw the worry on his face. Without a second thought she went to him, smoothing his face with her hands.

"I'm ok." She whispered, taking him in her arms.

"If anything had happened to you…" Gil muttered into her shoulder, and Sara stroked his hair. It was the most intimate they had ever been with each other, and Sara felt a thrill of desire shoot through her.

"I'm ok." She whispered again. Gil's face turned towards her, and he began to press kisses up her shoulder and neck. Sara felt her breath hitch in pleasure. She did not know what to do, so she continued to stroke his hair. Slowly Gil lowered them back onto the bed. He continued to press his open mouth against her neck, making Sara squirm in delight. With one arm he pulled her body flush against him and he slipped the other beneath the oversized shirt she had borrowed to stroke the curve of her hip.

Suddenly Gil came to his senses. He was no better than Telson.

"I'm sorry." He said, starting to move away from Sara. "I can't do this." He turned away, expecting her to object and unable to face her.

"I understand." Gil turned back to her in surprise. Sara seemed strangely nonplussed by his rejection of her.

"I'm sorry." He felt thoroughly ashamed.

"Take me with you."

"What?" Sara held up a hand to stay his objections.

"When you leave, I want to go with you. I will tell you everything I know about my uncle if you will take me back to the Outlands with you where I can be free." Gil tried to ignore the sense of foreboding that crept up on him. It was the least she deserved, after all; a new start in a land where she could claim a degree of autonomy out of the reach of her cruel and potentially abusive uncle.

"Ok." He agreed after a long pause and Sara let go of the breath she was holding. She could have insisted that he swear by it, but she already knew he was a man of his word. Now that the deal had been struck, Gil climbed into bed with her for the first time.

"Now we sleep." He told her as he pulled her into his arms. Sara's mind was racing, but ever so quickly the slow steady breaths of her sirahan and the calming scent of him lulled her to sleep.


End file.
